I bury my face into his neck as we plunge, tangled together like two warring dragons, into the sea.
MY BONES SCREAM. ICY COLD BURNS my skin and my mouth fills with saltwater. I take an instinctive breath and the water floods my lungs. My eyes fly open in panic.
Atlas is gone.
The sea is a dark blue-grey. It propels me forward with a gigantic force and I raise my hands in front of my face just as it flings me against a solid shape. My cheek grazes the side of the rock but I feel no pain. I choke, the pressure in my head so strong that my eyes feel like they might burst from their sockets. The swirl gathers me again, the wool of my coat unravelling around me in a pale line, like the trail of a fish. I shake the heavy material from my shoulders and swim upwards, kicking my aching legs with the last energy I can muster. My lungs burn, threatening to explode, and my head breaks the surface just as dots begin to dance before my eyes. I gasp, inhaling cold air, as a wave crashes me back towards the cliff face.
The evening sky is on fire.
I flail, turning my body to face the cliff. It towers above the water, its sprawling smoothness unforgiving, its grey rock polished flat by centuries of waves. There’s nothing to hold on to, no way of pulling myself out of the water.
I’m going to drown.
I stare out at the white current coming towards me.
‘Atlas! Where are you?’ I scream.
I take another breath as the waves hit, sending me spinning, then burst out of the water as they roll over my head. I see a small, dark circle ahead.
The waves pull back, taking Atlas with them, before pushing him towards me and sending us both under the foamy swirl again. When we surface, he grabs me by the arms. I want to cling to him but that could kill us both. The cold is like a blade on my skin.
‘Where—’ I gasp, but I can’t finish my sentence.
I stare out at the churning sea.
‘There,’ Atlas chokes.
He’s pointing to the columns of basalt rock that jut out from the cliff face, forming narrow ledges too high for us to reach. But the waves push us up against the cliffs, hoisting us higher, and we let them toss us until Atlas is close enough. As we’re pushed flat against the grey surface he stretches his body out of the water, reaching up to a ledge. I draw in a breath as the waves steal me away.
They pull me towards the deep but I force myself to stay still, knowing that they’ll bring me back again in a dance of rise and fall. When they spit me out I set my eyes on Atlas,who has pulled himself up on to the ledge. I reach him and flail for his hand, my legs treading nothing. He catches me by my wrists and pulls me upwards. My shoulders pop in protest, the muscles in my sides pulling painfully as I hang in the void. Then he grabs the back of my jumper and lifts me, scraping my stomach against the jagged rock.
I don’t dare move, lying still with my face against Atlas’s leg as we both catch our breath, the lower half of my body still hanging over the edge. The ledge, barely wider than a baby’s cradle, can’t hold us both. I lift a leg to grip the side and Atlas’s hand comes around the top of my thigh, holding it there. I stare at the swirling depths below. The air is sharp and smoky, stinging the salty cuts that smart beneath the gashes in my trousers. Atlas’s teeth chatter.
I stare at him, still crouching with his hair plastered to his forehead and the soggy papers stolen from the tent sticking out of his pockets. Watery blood drips from the back of his neck and when he turns his head I spot the wound made by Ralph’s baton, a small, red gash on the back of his skull.
‘Sti – stitches,’ I say with a shiver.
A Speerspitze explodes and a Ddraig Goch drops into the sea with a crash. Atlas’s hand tightens around my leg as the ripple effect sends water surging up to meet us, spilling over me. I can only see the far side of Wyvernmire’s camp from here, the closer half hidden by the cliffs that stretch across the sand. There is no sign of Guardians or the Prime Minister, no human presence at all. Only the sky, dark but alight with flame, is in battle. The rebels must be sending the dragons in first. Ash, still glowing orange, floats towards us, extinguishingas soon as it touches our wet skin.
‘I thought it would burn,’ I say hoarsely as my limbs begin to tremble.
‘I wish it would,’ Atlas mutters.
My legs are aching, the rim of the ledge digging into my ribs, my toes turning numb. But there’s nowhere to climb up or down to and if Atlas tries to move, we could both fall. He hooks his arm under mine as we wait hopefully, as if a dragon we know might just fly by and spot us. I think of Marquis, Serena and Gideon, looking for Chumana when all along she was in the tent.
‘I don’t think I can stay like this for much longer,’ I shout over a series of roars.
Atlas nods in agreement. ‘I’m going to have to let go of you so I can sit down. All right?’
I grip the ledge with stiff, bone-white fingers. Atlas lets go of my leg and slowly moves from his crouching position so that he’s sitting down, dangling his legs over the edge. Then one of his hands reaches over me and grabs the back of my belt. He pulls me up and across his lap.
‘Now sit up and turn around slowly,’ he says, ‘and wrap your legs around my waist.’
‘Around your what?’ I splutter.
‘Just do it, Viv.’
I pull my knees in and use the rock behind Atlas to twist myself round to face him, then slide my legs on either side of his waist.
